Page 49 of To Resist a Scandalous Rogue
He regarded her, his dear face solemn. “So where does that leave us?”
“As friends, I hope,” she whispered around the bubble in her throat.
“Of course,” he answered without hesitation. “And as your friend, I hope you’ll let me know of any way I can assist you.”
Shuffling back and forth on her feet under his intense stare, she managed a curt nod.
“I’ll follow up with Lady Flora to make sure you do,” he added, taking a step in her direction and reaching out to grasp her hands.
“What will you follow up with me about?” Lady Flora asked as she stepped into the room in a swish of pomona muslin. She regarded the viscount impassively, her gaze not sliding to Charlotte even as she came to stand next to her.
Finlay dropped his arms to his side and offered Flora a polite bow. “My lady, I was just reminding Mrs. Taylor that I am at her assistance should she ever need it.”
“That’s very chivalrous of you,” Flora said, her mouth quirking. “I hope Charlotte takes you up on your kind offer.”
Charlotte felt a flush advance from her bodice to her neck and face. Covertly, she slid her hand until she could pinch the inside of Flora’s elbow.
Amazingly, the woman didn’t yelp in pain but rather raised a dark brow in her direction.
Finlay saved her from further action when he said, “If you’ll excuse me ladies, I have an appointment to keep.” He dipped his head to them, although his eyes rested on Charlotte. “Until next time.”
She watched him go, an ache exploding in her chest when he disappeared from the room. Just being in his presence, in his arms, for the last twenty minutes had been enough to buoy her flagging spirits and provide her with a dose of his personal sunshine. With his departure, the day suddenly seemed gray.
“Did you tell him?”
Blinking, Charlotte spread her hands. “I don’t know what you mean?”
Flora sighed and plopped down on a chair, bracing her elbows on her knees as she speared Charlotte with an impatient look. “Did you tell Firthwell about the Townsends?”
“I told him my in-laws were looking for me and could cause him trouble,”Charlotte hedged.
“But you didn’t reveal their names?”
She bit her lip and shook her head.
Flora leaned back and ran her fingers across her forehead, her gaze distant. “Let’s hope there’s never cause to tell him. Because if there is, then he’s already in the suds. And so are you.”
Charlotte covered her face with her hands, certain storms would threaten all the foreseeable days to come.
Chapter Seventeen
“What else is on your schedule?”
Finlay pushed an empty coffee cup aside and glanced at the agenda his secretary had included in his stack of paperwork for the day. As his eyes focused on the long list, he quelled a sigh. “Several meetings, including one with Matthews, before your dinner party. Then I leave to Weobley tomorrow for canvassing.”
Inverray relaxed back into his chair and propped a booted foot over his knee. Although the coffee shop they’d convened at was filled to the rafters with MPs, secretaries, barristers, and the like, their collective noise resembling a busy hornets’ nest, Inverray somehow appeared unperturbed. “Gad, I don’t envy you.” He leaned over to glance at Finlay’s list. He stabbed a finger at a line. “Kiss babies, commiserate with the elders, and talk cricket with the men in the pub. Once you buy them a round of ale, they’ll be slapping you on the back and buying you pints.”
“I’m beginning to think this standing for Parliament business merely involves a whole lot of pandering,” Finlay said on a chuckle.
“Grasped that lesson already, have you?” Inverray raised his hand to summon a server and ordered another cup of coffee. “Sometimes you will find the easiest path is to grin and laugh.”
Propping his elbows on the table, Finlay massaged his temples. He’d been traveling back and forth to Weobley, meeting voters, attending party meetings, shaking hands, and doing a lot of smiling. He was done with smiling. He just wanted to sleep.
“The Eddingtons will be at dinner.” Inverray paused as he accepted his cup of coffee from the server. After taking a sip, he regarded Finlay over the brim. “I take it Miss Eddington is a candidate for the future Lady Firthwell.”
Finlay shrugged, even as his palms grew sweaty. “Eddington has been generous with his connections. If I must listen to his daughter play the pianoforte as compensation, I will gladly do it. At least she is semi-accomplished at the instrument.”
“And she’s quite bonny.” Inverray’s gray eyes held a smile.
